


hang tight / all you

by feltstrips



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Animal Death, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Bizarre Coping Methods, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon Compliant, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Interspecies Romance, Masochism, Medical Inaccuracies, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, Xenophilia, eddie isnt even like a sexy masochist he just gets off on being genuinely uncomfortable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-29 06:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16258628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feltstrips/pseuds/feltstrips
Summary: The symbiote seems entertained, and Eddie is flashed with an image of a black-shot, wet surface.Just twisted a couple of your nerve endings together.





	1. to go burning through

**Author's Note:**

> ive never read a comic book in my life. hope i succeeded in making eddie charlie kelly-esque

The windows are broken. Damp, muted chill curls under the seams of the plywood covering, and he's too broke to fix them or even start heating before winter; his paper is only paying minimum wage. It's late fall. The apartment is a meat locker. 

Venom doesn't mind, at least. Said it liked the cold. 

Eddie is doing pretty shittily. He's got a second skin thrumming and burning his metabolism double time, but it's like the thin fever of drunkenness- he's radiating heat and freezing his ass off simultaneously. 

_Stop shivering._

"Yeah, well," he says, spitting flecks of toothpaste on the mirror, "maybe you should stop throwing us through the windows."

Venom shifts, lines of it pushing up the skin of his chest. This doesn't help the goosebumps. 

_Next time I'll let you get shot,_ it growls. Eddie mm-hms in agreement and tries to scrape the white gunk off his tongue with the toothbrush. Venom jerks his arm and laughs when he gags.

He crawls into bed and buries himself under at least five blankets. Venom slips a few tendrils from him and slithers into the open air, like someone sticking a foot out of the covers to cool off. 

_Now you're suffocating us,_ it complains, and works more of itself over him. He shudders a little at the contrast- the slime runs hot and damp, and it feels like being licked. 

"Pay the heating bill and we'll compromise," he says. It hums.

 _Alright,_ it says, and all at once a wash of near-painful heat rushes through Eddie's abdomen. He yells and scrambles upright, almost falling off the bed, but a second later there's only a faint warmth. It fades fast and leaves him shaking harder than the cold ever could. 

"What the fuck was that?" He gasps, and swallows down a sudden wave of nausea. Aftershock. 

The symbiote seems entertained, and Eddie is flashed with an image of a black-shot, wet surface. _Just twisted a couple of your nerve endings together._

"Jesus fuck," he says. Can't think of anything beyond that. 

The bed is actually warm when he wakes up in the middle of the night. He can't appreciate it, ‘cause he knows he's not going back to sleep. 

So Eddie opens the bathroom door, walks over to the tub, and gets himself nice and comfortable. Digs into his hoodie pocket for a pack of Marlboros. There's one left, good luck; usually, he carries empty packs without realizing. 

Venom shoots out unprompted and grabs the lighter he'd forgotten on the sink. Eddie mutters his thanks and lights up, blows the smoke out in a geyser to watch it swirl into the ceiling vent.

Smoking is his fail-safe means of comfort, a bad habit left over from high school. He'd started up again after Anne dumped him, and even when his life pulled back together he kept it up. You'd think Venom would get bitchy about Eddie damaging “their” lungs, but for once he hasn't heard a peep about it. 

The clock over the door ticks into 4:00 AM. 

“Quick- quick question, man.” 

Venom rises to the surface of his mind with an automatic ease. Like breathing, like a heartbeat. Involuntary. 

_What?_

It sounds more growl-y than usual, like it's waking up. Eddie honestly has no idea if it sleeps or not, and makes the mistake of thinking about it. 

_I do,_ it says, resonating irritation, _but what?_

“Right, right. Uh,” Eddie says, and hesitates, fishing for a way to phrase what's on his mind.

_This will be weird, won't it?_

Eddie clears his throat a little. 

“Remember when you said my liver looked juicy?” 

Eddie's body vibrates with Venom's laughter until his skin is trying to crawl off him and find a still corner to hide.

 _Yes, Eddie,_ it says after a good while, still sounding amused, _I remember saying your liver looked juicy._

“Nice. Nice.” 

There's a pregnant pause and Eddie slaps his hands on his thighs absently, puffing hard on his cigarette. 

_If having your liver eaten is something you'd enjoy, then-_

He cuts it off as well as he can despite its steamroller speech pattern, saying “Nah, don't eat me, shithead,” very firmly to the empty air. 

He barrels on before he can stop himself and before Venom can interrupt again.

“That- and, and the nerve thing- means you can- you can see me, right? Like inside?”

Venom is slow to answer, and draws out his reply stickily.

_...Yes._

Easy, easy. Eddie takes another drag.

“So, uh, you could. Do things to my insides,” he says, offhand, “shit that isn't eating.”

Venom is silent. The walls seem to creak around them, held together with the tension in the air. 

“I just wanna know, kinda, the capabilities. Risks. Of you in- in me?" 

_Risks!?_ Venom hisses, a horrid grating sound that has Eddie uselessly slamming his palms over his ears. His cig flies into the stratosphere. 

“Fuck, no, hold-”

 _I would never hurt you,_ it says, pissed, and crawls up Eddie's neck like writhing tumors. 

“I know, I know, calm down with the hissing and the wiggling and-”

Venom does stop, suddenly and not because it was asked. When it speaks again there's a strange edge to its voice.

_Not what this is about, is it?_

Eddie sighs shakily. 

“No.”

 _You want me to hurt you, Eddie,_ it purrs. This is not a question. 

“I- Yes. Yeah.”

_I can do that._

Then he feels it in his head- in his mind, rustling around in there, looking for something. He really wishes he hadn't thrown his cigarette.

It's quiet while it searches. Eddie drums his heels on the side of the tub, shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“You gonna, uh-?” 

_Shut up,_ it says. More slime oozes from him and slides across his skin, under his shirt, making his clothing a nest of snakes. Eddie shuts up.

And then Venom does- does something to his chest, or his lungs, or his ribcage, he can't tell and he can't _breathe_. His muscles spasm around immobile bone when he wheezes and can't get the air back in, just little hiccuping breaths out. Venom laughs again in that electric-buzz way and Eddie's whole body seizes. 

The corners of his vision are pebbly with spots and his fingers are numb when it finally lets him go. He gulps in a lungful of oxygen, two, three and feels part of Venom curl around the base of his dick before his chest freezes again. 

He groans with what he has left, lets his head fall back and clunk painfully into the wall. It reaches up and unzips his hoodie, pulls his pants down his trembling thighs. Eddie's body is twitching and entwined with little bits of Venom inside and out.

He's stuck like that for a good thirty seconds longer than the last time. Venom slowly jerks him off all through it, coils of black slipping over his half-hard cock. 

Again, release, and Eddie would probably come from just how sweet it felt to breathe if he wasn't this close to blacking out.

“Wait, jesus,” he croaks, “gimme a sec,” and breaks off into hacking. Venom stills.

 _Coulda went longer,_ it says, but a thrum of apology runs through him. Eddie grabs the shower curtain and pulls himself to his knees, shakes his head.

“No, I- I asked for it, just,” and he looks down at the ooze still threaded around the base of his dick, “ _Jesus._ ”

A pause, and he asks “One more time?”

_Hah._

It's slower, now, weans him off one gasp at a time, slips up his throat to cut him off when he groans. Eddie strains against the invisible pressure, his own flesh and blood hemming him in. Half of Venom's jaw coagulates in a cradle of teeth and tongue to slip across his face, seal up his mouth and nose. 

Eddie counts the seconds. His vision blanks into white at 100, and he's lost all feeling in his arms and legs well before that, even as he holds himself up; Venom must be supporting him. The thought is kind of nice, actually, and the last thing that runs across his mind before he passes out.

 _Do you feel like you have brain damage?_ Is what he hears when he wakes up for the second time that night. 

“No,” he groans, tries to sit up and puts his hand right into the splatter of jizz caked on the side of the tub. Blood pounds in his ears. 

_Good. Your eye wouldn't quit twitching,_ it says, and spreads up his chest. A face forms in the center of the blob and sticks out its tongue, licks up his cheek. 

“Sounds about right, yeah,” he wheeze-laughs, and plants a wet, sloppy kiss on the tip of Venom’s tongue.


	2. in a slaughterhouse language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fucking shit, Venom! Fuck! Use your own mouth!”
> 
> _Why? Yours is more fun._
> 
> Eddie retches up a bubble of small, bloody feathers, which drools between the metal grid and to the concrete below. “You are, you are _actually_ insane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i proud of myself for the dead dove joke? yes. absolutely. as for the rest of this well uh. this was never supposed to have a second chapter, so
> 
> also i know eddie's apartment had a balcony thing not a fire escape but im gay and i like fire escapes better

_Eddie._

“Yes, dear?”

_This is stupid._

“Yes, dear.”

A car drives past and makes a sharp turn, briefly flashing headlights down the alley. The glow shines opaquely through the curls of smoke orbiting Eddie's head.

On top of everything else, his apartment is starting to take on that old, acidic reek of cigarettes. Determined not to live in a place that smelled like a retirement home, he'd developed the habit of taking his morning smoke on the fire escape. It's just as cold in-and-outdoors. Helps a little. 

_We're starving,_ Venom growls, the sound reverberating in Eddie's skull, _cancer sticks are not food._

“Oh, listen to you! Picking up the dialect like a pro, man, you just- you sound just like my mom,” Eddie says, and takes a long, hard drag on his cig, burning it almost to the filter.

It does have a point, however. Eddie had not been eating enough lately. Venom had; they couldn't walk two feet in this city without running into a few creeps for it to gnaw on, which worked insofar to keep Eddie's organs off the menu. As for the rest of him, though, he was... eating, yeah, but not regularly or well. 

He'd stepped on the scale a while back, just to check that he wasn't underweight, and the little red arrow had swung up to 274. Venom had gotten a kick out of that until Eddie called it a dense motherfucker. 

His stomach growls on cue. He ignores it reaches for his second pack of Pall Malls. 

“God. These things suck so bad.”

 _Stop buying them, then._

“Hell no, they're cheap as-all-get-out. Cheapest on the market, and we are so very poor.”

He waves the red and silver box in front of his own nose. The contents come dangerously close to spilling. 

“You can at least appreciate the art, like- it's lions unicorns all that shit. Very badass, yeah?” 

_How...poetic,_ it rumbles, _little writer,_ and Eddie feels a little derision/affection combo seep into in his chest. He's getting the knack of picking up on the symbiote's emotions, now, and sometimes it manages to surprise him. 

He smiles, kicks his feet out in front of him and says “ ‘Scuse you. I write news, not poetry.”

 _[What about anecdotal leads?](http://inside.sfuhs.org/dept/history/US_History_reader/Chapter9/fourhorsemen.htm) _

“Goddammit,” he says, huffs out a laugh and a cloud of smoke. 

They sit in peaceful silence for a minute, until a fatass pigeon lands on the railing right in front of them- completely unfazed, as pigeons tend to be. Eddie's stomach growls louder. 

“Oh, please do not-”

But before he can finish saying _please_ a net of Venom-goo whips out and ensnares it, setting the damn bird trilling up a storm, and Eddie (they) lunges forward teeth-first. 

There's a brief blip in Eddie's perception, a flicker of blank across his vision, and he's under deeper than he has been in months. Venom has shot the ringmaster and taken over the show.

It purrs like a motorboat in his eardrums as he strips the skin off with his teeth. The thing is still fucking alive _(just how we like it get some taste)_ and he starts tearing off hunks. He's not there, not really, but he hears the brittle bones crack in the vice-grip of his _(our)_ fingers, the muscle fibers ripping with a soft, wet noise. Half of the pigeon's been wolfed down before Eddie manages to snap out of it and wrestle into the driver's seat.

He gags immediately and tosses the carcass away as fast as he can, but something _(we need this)_ forces down the vomit in the back of his throat. He gags again, to the same result. 

“Fucking shit, Venom! Fuck! Use your own mouth!”

_Why? Yours is more fun._

Eddie retches up a bubble of small, bloody feathers, which drools between the metal grid and to the concrete below. “You are, you are _actually_ insane.”

After he's done with a good bout of dry-heaving into the trashcan by the window, he returns to the fire escape to continue chain-smoking, as any rational, sane person would do. As he sits down, his breath steams; the temperature must have dropped a couple degrees.

The alley's aggressive reek of gasoline on top of his yo-yo-ing nic high gets to him pretty quick, and he digs his palms into his eyes to try and fight off the dizziness. Venom snarls something in an unintelligible pitch. 

“Shut the hell up, man. I probably have like, like three brand new diseases ‘cause of you.”

_Doubt it._

“Christ,” he says, “they call those flying rats ‘round here, y'know? You heard of that? And you made me _eat_ one.”

Venom does the body-snatcher equivalent of a giggle- which, as Eddie has learned, means a low ripple of vibrations down his spine, feels like a fucken' ice bath- and threads around his hand, pulls the cigarette from his lips. Eddie, exhausted and too shaky for his own good, just lets it take it. At least he isn't hungry anymore. 

“We gotta work on that sorta shit, okay?” 

_Call me your autopilot,_ it says, enveloping the rest of his hand. It drags its claws across his lips, clicks against his teeth.

“Whoa, bud, what're you up to,” He says, more than a little nervous even as his dick twitches in his pajama pants. They're not exactly in-public-in-public, but fooling around here has him a little on edge.

 _It's the asscrack of dawn, we're fine,_ it says, and coils around his neck. Eddie's breath hitches. 

“I mean- I was just yarfing a sec ago. You really wanna…?” He asks, still reeling a bit from their total one-eighty. 

_Yes,_ it snarls, loud and harsh, and Eddie briefly thinks that maybe he should let it eat birds more often.

Venom tightens its coils into a noose. He shoves his non-possessed hand down his pants without thinking twice, hisses at his icy fingers on his dick.

The wet-hot goo claw pushes past his teeth and he expects Venom to tell him to suck, but instead, it hooks into his jaw and pulls his mouth open. Eddie furrows his brow and makes an _auugh_ noise. It softly hisses for him to quiet, runs its thumb over his molars.

 _Last time,_ it says, still prodding around in his mouth, _you asked what I could do to you._

He mumbles an affirmative, a hot pulse of arousal curling through his guts. His hand is still cold as fuck but he draws his fist loosely up, twists a little at the head. 

Venom withdraws its fingers from his mouth and loosens the hold on his neck, asks _Wanna see?_

“Hell yeah,” He says. His voice is hoarse.

It floods his vision with rapid-fire flashes of- of people, but not really; their hands, grasping, the ghoulish reflections of faces screaming in store windows, puddles of rainwater. Then a damp splatter of red, white, gray. Bones cracked open for the marrow. Hunks of organs. Flesh. Brain matter. 

Eddie shudders so hard he twitches, muscle-deep, visceral. A low buzz grows in the back of his neck.

“That's- oh god, is that real?” He asks, nearly hyperventilating, and it slides tendrils into his hair, tugs a little. The tension drops from Eddie's shoulders automatically.

 _Not yet,_ it rumbles, so deep Eddie's breastbone aches. He's never been so cold in his life. 

Another car drives past, headlights dimmed with the rising sun. Eddie, not for the first time, can feel something push through his heart, be it fear or be it exaltation. 

And because it's Venom and it does what it wants to, it switches to Eddie; his legs, his broken neck knitting together after he was run over- impaled with Riot's blade, bleeding out, heart ripped in two- his choked-out, gasping orgasm in the bathtub.

“Fuck,” he hisses, picks up the pace on even though the dry skin-on-skin friction is starting to hurt. Venom growls appreciatively, there are words in there but Eddie can't quite catch them.

“Wh-” _I said to tell me if this gives you a seizure._

A knotted bulge pushes up his chest. It wraps around his heart and squeezes, which pretty much hurts like getting hit with a baseball bat. 

Eddie screams out loud, his back arching til it cracks, the brick wall digging into his shoulder blades. The world spins in a blender around him what seems like forever, every bit of his body burning, eyes rolled back, until Venom stops it all at once and he collapses in a heap. 

This time he doesn't black out, unfortunately. He just lies there, limp, soaked in sweat and gasping, sore like he'd just run a marathon. Venom tugs one of his arms up, lets it flop down when Eddie refuses to respond. 

_Ragdoll,_ it mutters, and pulls him up, heedless of his weak groaning, and hauls them through the still-open window.

It takes him straight to the couch. Eddie, despite everything, catches himself mumbling his thanks, and then thinks _Motherfucker_ as hard as he can to make up for it. Venom nudges at his cheek, and more of that sickly-sweet affection fills his head. 

Black webbing slinks around the apartment. It comes back with a blanket, toothbrush, and a bunch of random bullshit in tow. 

_Only a heart attack,_ it says, _you big baby._

“Yeah, only a heart attack,” he grunts, “fuck,” and accepts the blanket but waves away everything else. 

_I got us off, didn't I?_

“No you- oh,” he says, realizing that isn’t just sweat slicking up his crotch. Nasty. “Still don't gotta sound so smug about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venom Holds Eddie Hostage and Eats an Entire Jar Of Tiger Balm: ASMR

**Author's Note:**

> *venom voice* hey what would happen if i poked your spinal cord
> 
>  
> 
> (bonus: the title is from acid rain by lorn which is absolutely a venomcore song. listen to it)


End file.
